


The Fall from Below

by MrMcLemons



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Crimson Peak (2015) RPF
Genre: Biting, Character Arc, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dream Sex, F/M, Foreplay, Fuck yourself Lucille, Ghost Stories, Ghosts, I'm bad with tags, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Marking, No Incest, OC just wants to be free, Obsession, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rape warning is just for precaution, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Spooky, Thomas is a mean bean, Thomas wants love, Transformation, WHAT IS SLEEP, lots of porn but also lots of plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMcLemons/pseuds/MrMcLemons
Summary: For once Iris Davience's life seems to be heading in the direction she's wanted for so long. Far away from her home and attending Allderdale Hall, a school that nurtured gifted students such as herself, Iris finds herself falling in love with the new life she's starting. But there is a horrible darkness that creeps in these halls, and following a string of suspicious events Iris can't help but notice something in the shadows has taken a horrible, intimate liking to her. Nightmares are awakened, and the darkest desires she never knew she possessed bubble to the surface as she begins to uncover the truth of Sir Thomas Sharpe in her dreams and reality.





	The Fall from Below

Allderdale Hall had undergone construction exactly ten years following the mysterious deaths of Thomas and Lucille Sharpe. Reaching its fifth generation status, the home had been bequeathed to the late Mrs. Sharpe by the name of Edith neé Cushing, who, alongside her inheritance and new fiancé Dr. Alan McMichael, transformed the home of horrors into the prospering school for gifted students it honed to the day.

At least, that's what the papers had said. Of course you learn not to trust the media too often when you lived in America for as long as Iris, but this wasn't downtown New York anymore, and the papers weren't technically papers besides in the most literal sense.

They were framed on the wall like a painting, the ink having faded over the years and the edges curling inwards in old age. Next to those was a map of the building—the original structure highlighted in red, but only serving a small proportion to the institute in its entirety.

England. She was in England—an ocean away from New York and all the gritty strings attached. One duffel bag full of items was the only thing that she'd brought with her, and hardly any of them served the purpose to remind her of home.

"Allderdale was originally built in the late 1800s, it's a wonder it hadn't collapsed," Iris turned to the voice, noticing one of the people she'd glimpsed in the office had approached her without her knowledge. She looked the epitome of professional in her pencil skirt and frilly blouse, finished with a pair of nice glasses that complimented the shape of her face. The smile on her face softened the image, she wasn't very intimidating.

"They built it on clay—red clay, it was high in iron but there were always a lot of tales about how it was an old burial ground. Rubbish, the lot of it. Anyways, when the reconstruction happened Edith Cushing made sure to the foundation was strong enough to sustain many years to come. She wanted the original building to stand as a message that time cannot destroy everything, and it shouldn't—not even places with histories as dark as these."

It took a few moments for the words to really settle in her mind, and when they did Iris could only muster a half worthy response. "The google images have nothing on it. It's magnificent."

The comment wasn't meant to be funny, but the lady laughed anyways. Her smile somehow stretched wider but it wasn't awkward to behold, which was surprising given its size.

"This place was made to amaze." Then, as an afterthought, "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Georgiana Kenton, I function as the Vice Headmistress here in Allderdale. My grandmother was Edith Cushing."

Iris gulped, she had no idea how to respond to that and she felt extremely out of place suddenly. Here she was, dressed in her most presentable outfit that was dwarfed by the opulence of an old house that existed before even she was even a twinkle in existence. "I'm pretty sure you know who I am," she commented, trying not to sound arrogant.

"Of course, it's not everyday we get a transfer student from New York. There aren't many Americans that make it." And she didn't elaborate, though she very well could've, on how it was even rarer that someone of her background made it: someone poor, someone who lived in the worst parts of a large city and lived to see things most people couldn't handle. "Enough of that, though—would you like to finish the tour?"

"Finish? But what about—" she stopped, this woman would be able to take her anywhere in this institute and it'd be alright. She was only just waiting for her paperwork to be authenticated, after all. Couldn't hurt to settle in a bit. "Ah, I don't know why I said anything. Lead the way."

Ms. Kenton had heels on, and it was obvious as every clack echoed through the virtually empty chamber, each hallway destitute of anything but silence and decorations that looked like antiques. It all smelled very nice and looked very nice, it was an unfamiliar feeling for her to be surrounded with extravagant things like this. She felt out of place.

"The history of the Sharpe family is the most interesting part of Allderdale, in my opinion. My grandmo—Edith—wished to preserve the image of her early husband and his sister after their deaths, so most of the things in the original building have been left untouched or were merely renovated to prevent from any mishaps. They are portraits of them hanging on the wall there," and she pointed at the left side with hardly a glance, and Iris was barely able to spare one when she sped up. A chill ran down her spine as an especially cold gust of wind hit her from seemingly out of nowhere. "—and a few more are scattered throughout Allderdale."

They stopped at a staircase and Ms. Kenton began speaking again. "The first floor is classes and teacher quarters, second is students dorms, study hall, and cafeteria, and third floor is the library, though a portion of it is connected to the original structure and entirely prohibited. You'll find most of the places you need are on the first and second floor but in different directions. Here we like to encourage finding things out, but the history of Allderdale is better left buried and therefore the third floor is almost always off limits." Ms. Kenton turned to Iris, and though she didn't appear scary, her voice dropped and her face appeared grave. "Do you believe in ghost stories, Ms. Davience?"

What an odd question. Of course it didn't feel very out of place in a murder house like this, and suddenly as her chest constricted she felt obliged to agree. The only ghosts she'd ever seen were living, walking people; she didn't need to think of anything else.

"I guess I do," she laughed almost sheepishly, mostly with hesitance. "It could change."

"You'll find some very interesting things happen here," and though the sharp look in her eyes was fleeting, Iris saw it before it retreated not a moment later. "Enough of that, you'll hear plenty from the other girls and even more from the boys. Follow me."

Iris turned to look behind her, and though she saw nothing the feeling that had creeped up her spine of someone watching her only grew as she moved forward. She rubbed her arms together to rid the chill, but some colds just don't go away.

 

<~>

 

"Your room is right through here, usually you'd be bunking with other girls but there's been a recent opening and you should have a room to yourself, though it will be connected to the other dorms. Safety should not be a concern, and for you nor should privacy or comfort."

The door that led to what would be Iris' room was flanked by another that was considerably less extravagant one compared to the intricate designs on hers.

"This part of the building is actually part of the original structure still, which is why the room remains one of the largest. You got the lucky draw being the oldest of the transfers and newcomers, so it's all yours. The bathrooms are down the hall and on the right side, and your quarters include some clothes already set up inside the drawers as well as a towel and some basic toiletry items. Curfew is nine thirty and doors lock by ten, if you're caught past that you'll have immediate detention and possibly suspension depending on how many times the offense has been committed. Supper is served at six and school your first day of school is officially in two days, plenty of time to settle in." During this spiel Ms. Kenton had shown Iris into her room all the while standing in the doorway as if apprehensive to fully emerge herself in the threshold. "If you have any questions don't be afraid to ask me or anyone else, the staff and your peers will be more than willing. However most of the things you'll learn through time."

For the majority of the tour Iris had been silent, but it was hard to contain her excitement in this room. An amazing room that was all hers. She could hardly form any words.

"I...this is so perfect, I—" she paused, "thank you so much. I'll be sure to ask about anything but....thank you."

The smile Ms. Kenton offered was soft and understanding, but there was a sadness in it that Iris couldn't decipher. "It's a pleasure to have you here, I hope you enjoy it." And she left Iris alone.

The first thing she did was drop her bag and fall back onto the bed. A full bed that was made out of clouds and she wouldn't have to share with anyone; something warm and luxurious to wrap herself in when she was cold, a place to call home. It was all so much. This room, all her provided clothes and the stack of toiletries and pencils and other supplies, sitting there on top of the dresser that was far larger than anything she'd ever known.

"I think I'm going to like it here," she murmured to herself, the smile on her lips genuine and lasting for perhaps the first time in years.

After a while of sinking into the mattress, Iris disentangled herself from the bed and, with great amounts of motivation, began to unpack. It wasn't as nostalgic as she planned, to put the clothes from her home in the drawer, but sitting next to her uniforms and everything else provided she felt like she could put closure on her feelings. Green and black with gray and white stitching, made of some of the softest material she'd ever owned.

Fawning over the clothes wasn't the only thing on her mind. She was in a mansion, a very old and interesting one at that. Ms. Kenton said dinner was at six, and a glance at her old watch confirmed it was only four. Two hours max to explore, and there was a lot to see.

Iris' smile hadn't diminished as she retraced her steps out of the girl dorms and opted for a right to the library. Not even halfway down the hall a girl appeared carrying a hefty amount of bags. Her only companion was a smaller boy that held a lot of physical similarity to her, most likely a younger brother. Iris sped up and smiled amicably at the chance to gain a friend.

"Hey," Iris called out, "need some help there?"

They both looked up and the girl immediately mirrored Iris' expression. "If it's not too much, my brother and I are struggling a bit."

"I can see that," Iris joked, laughing as she relieved the girl of the bags. "I'm Iris, what's your name?"

"Annabelle," she answered, accent flaring as she gave Iris a curious look. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Me? Ha, no. I'm from New York."

"Transfer?" Annabelle asked.

"I guess you could say that." Iris said, "I didn't get the chance to apply until this year, so here I am."

"I thought so, I've been here since year one. It's great to have a fresh face though! Most of the girl here are complete nobs!" She laughed, but Iris was lost on the joke.

"Did you say 'nob'?"

"Oh, forgot already 'idn't I? Means rich folk, usually snobs. I can't say much though cause my parents are like that too."

Iris was hesitant in her teasing nature, "If it means anything I don't think you're that bad...so far."

Annabelle laughed, "Well thanks, but you'll see what I mean. Just steer clear of Gisela and you'll be fit as a fiddle." Then, "oh, and this is my little brother Nathaniel."

Nathaniel blushed at being mentioned, he appeared to only be eight or nine years old and was carrying a bag that looked almost twice his size. "Wow, you're like a rock! Look at those muscles."

"Thanks, I play rugby." He responded cheerily.

"Oh don't get into that, she doesn't want to hear about how you play rugby." Annabelle turned to Iris, "He's obsessed, it's all he talks about."

"It's ok, I play footsal so I understand."

"You have that in America? I didn't know. What room are you staying in?"

Iris realized Annabelle was a person who didn't stay on topics very long. "Uh, I don't know. It's...lemme show you." It was just up ahead, and when they grew nearer to the decorated door Iris pointed to it. "It's that one."

"You got the pot hole all to yourself?!"

Iris was visibly confused, "pot hole?"

Annabelle looked wearily at her brother who was staring up at them, and she lowered her voice so only Iris could hear. "It's where the girls and guys go to smoke a fag or buff."

Iris was visibly taken aback, "You tellin' me that people fuck in my room?" Iris didn't mind to keep her voice lowered and Nathaniel looked up with concern. Annabelle glared sternly at him before nodding.

"Yeah, supposedly it's haunted." She commented, "my room's here, by the way." It was the door just to the right of Iris' room, but she didn't acknowledge it as anything more than convenient. She was still stuck on what Annabelle had said.

"So people though it was a good idea to smoke blunts and fuck in my room even though it's supposedly haunted? Jesus Christ."

"Don't worry, it'll be clean by now. And....well, since you're here I suppose they'll find somewhere else."

"They better," Iris grumbled, though when Annabelle laughed her bit of sourness disappeared. They went into the room and Annabelle veered to the right where a bed and dressed like Iris' were set close to each other, but among many others.

"Set the bags down here," Annabelle instructed, doing so herself on a bed almost half the size of Iris' and beginning to unpack. "Now scat Nate, mum and pa are expecting you." When he left she continued on unpacking, "Sorry bout that, he won't peep if he knows what's good for him, though."

"Don't matter much to me." Iris replied, sitting down on Annabelle's bed. "So what do you usually do before school starts?"

"Games usually, the girl's like to gossip but it's usually nothing spectacular. They'll probably talk about you, since you're new and all."

"Great," then after a bit of silence Iris casually asked. "Do any of you go to the restricted wing at all?"

Annabelle's head snapped up. "How'd you know about that?"

"Ms. Kenton mentioned it while showing me here, why?"

Annabelle let out a strangled sound, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "No one goes there unless you want to die!"

"That's a bit dramatic," Iris responded in a disbelieving tone. "I understand there's a ghost theme in this school but I don't think anyone would really die."

Annabelle spluttered, "Do you even know why the East wing is closed off?"

"Does it matter?"

"They closed it because when the school was originally built, that part was made as a dedication to Edith and her husband and all the work they did. The ghosts of the Sharpes were not happy, and before it was finished it went up in flames. When they rebuilt it the use was to be changed to a music room, but during the first year it opened two girls and one guy were found with their necks slit open inbetween classes."

Iris wasn't spooked by the thought of three people dying, New York was a living graveyard where the doomed walked amongst the dead—somehow she'd escaped. But something in Iris had shifted, and she made an uncomfortable grimace that looked if she'd just bitten into a lemon. "That's...unfortunate." Her eyes flitted to the side, coughing in grievance to the lighthearted mood. She supposed it was her turn to change the subject before she began to think too much of it. "Uh, where is everyone else?"

"They'll be here soon if they haven't already checked in. I'm pretty sure Izzy, Marcia, Kita, and Elsa are here." And then Annabelle added, "She owned that name before that rubbish movie came out." Iris laughed at that, noticing then that the other beds in the room had been personalized and were crowded in bags and other items. "Most of the girls come tomorrow, but it really just depends. They're all probably messing around in the common room with some of the guys, I can call them if you want. You got a mobile?"

"Mobile? No."

"Oh, that's OK! We don't have to go to the common room if you don't want to, though. I can understand it might be overwhelming." Annabelle said, maintaining a kind tone.

"I'll have to meet them all anyways, small school right?" Iris laughed again, trying to ease any tension their previous comment had created. The school truly was small, maybe one hundred per class at most.

"I suppose that's one way to see it. Don't worry, they're harmless. I'm sure everyone will take to you very quickly." She assured.

"I sure hope so," but Iris' smile was taunting, and her energy was renewed as any tremors of awkwardness dissipated. She jumped up and was at the door in a second, "Where'd you say it was again?" She called from where she stood, causing Annabelle to giggle jovially.

"I'll show you."

"Of course milady, lead the way." And with a flourishing bow, Annabelle and Iris walked to the common room. Small as the change might've been, it marked a fresh start to craft a new life upon, and the opportunity was all thanks to Allderdale.

It would not be until later that Iris would confront her thoughts, when the mysteries of her new home that had saved her world would begin to simultaneously tear her apart.


End file.
